Backstage
by Valandar
Summary: Ever wonder what happens behind the scenes of your favorite Harry Potter fanfics? Well, wonder no more!


Disclaimer: Not only do I not own Harry Potter, I don't think JKR would have EVER done THIS with these characters!

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Backstage

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Harry flipped through the pages of Variety, snickering at one article about an show about an aquatranssexual martial artist engaged to multiple women against his (her?) will. "Those Japanese have some crazy ideas," he muttered.

All of a sudden, the door to his right burst open, and Ron stormed in. "I CAN'T BLOODY WELL BELIEVE IT!" he roared, tossing a script at Harry's feet.

"The latest chapter of that fic you were telling me about?" asked Harry, an eyebrow raised.

"EXACTLY! The sodding author wants me to... to... AAAAAGH!" He threw his hands in the air, and collapsed on a couch.

"Hey, be glad we all managed to get 'stunt doubles' for all the slash fics out there. This one can't be any worse than those." Harry picked up the script, and began reading. Soon, his face shifted rapidly from bright red of embarrassment, to purple with rage, and finally an unhealthy shade of sickly green. "Good GAWD, that's one sick puppy!" he managed to sputter.

"Haarr-ee," came a sing-song voice from outside the dressing room. "You decent?"

A broad grin stretched across his face. "Indubitably!" he called out, even as he unconsciously reached up and flattened his hair.

"Oh, darn," was the reply, as Ginny Weasley strode in, and flopped down in his lap. "Just making sure you're ready, we have that fluff scene to do in an hour. You know, the one on the Astronomy Tower."

"I've been looking forward to it all day," admitted Harry with a grin, then leaned in for a kiss.

"Oh, right, leave me looking forward to one of the most revolting things I've ever had to to in my life," grumbled Ron. "If I didn't know he'd hired a metamorphomagus to play HER part, I'd have killed him on the spot."

Pausing their snogging to take a breath, Ginny smirked. "You must be talking about THAT fic," she chuckled.

"You're damn straight I am! Not only is the dialogue horrible, not only is everyone 'out of character', but I have to have a love scene with.. with..."

"Hey, just take one for the team!" chortled Harry. "I'm sure Minnie takes it as a high compliment, even though she refused to do the scene outright."

"Oh, like you refused the scene in that fic a year ago between you and Milicent Bulstrode?" smirked Ron.

Harry sank deeper in his chair. "Good GAWD that girl was psycho! It was just a scene, we never even really made any contact, and she began declaring to one and all it was the best sex she'd ever had!"

Ginny smiled wickedly. "Probably the closest thing to sex she ever had."

A shudder ran through Harry. "I don't want to think about that now. At least most of those fic authors have finally gotten it through their heads that Ron and Hermione make a MUCH better couple than me and her. It's like doing love scenes with your sister!"

Ginny blanched. "Oh PLEASE don't remind me of THAT fic. Tonks saved the day again, there."

Another knock on the door interrupted their remeniscing. "What is this," grumbled Harry, "Platform 9 3/4?"

A pair of scripts in hand, a slender man in his thirties with short dark hair, blue eyes, and a scraggly beard walked in. "Hiya, guys. Harry, Ginny, got a bit of a rewrite for the scene."

Ginny pouted. "But I was so looking forward to it!" she complained.

"I know, but I had an idea for a subplot to continue. Don't worry, you'll get some snuggle time in," said the man, ruffling Ginny's fire red mane after handing her the rewrite.

"I better, Valandar!" she retorted, pointing a wand at him. "Otherwise it's a king-sized bat-bogey hex for you!"

Harry looked up. "No hints about what Voldemort's planning?" he asked.

"Sorry, gotta wait for the dailies like everyone else," chided Valandar.

The door suddenly burst open, and a figure out of many peoples' nightmares burst in. Easily recognizeable was the noseless, red-eyed face, and the white, spidery hands. "I just can NOT work like this!" declared Lord Voldemort.

Everyone else rolled their eyes. "What is it THIS time, Tom?" asked Ron.

Voldemort flounced across the room, and hurled himself into an armchair, his robes fluttering about. "I simply SWEAR, these authors just know how to hurt me! I'm in ANOTHER slash fic with Sirius... and he's not paired with ME! He's with that floozy, Remus, again!"

Knowing glances crossed the room, and Ginny extricated herself from Harry's lap. "There, there, Tom, it's okay. I know how you've been pining for him, but it just won't work out. Besides, you have to remember, those are their doubles, not the real Remus and Sirius. Their names are Mickey Onceagone, and Aurelius Maelificus."

Voldemort took a breath with a heaving sob. "I... I know, Gin-gin. But it's still so hard, to see that face kissing... kissing HIIIM!" With a wail, the Dark Lord flung his arms around Ginny and began crying into her shoulder.

Valandar just stared for a second. "I... I'll be on the set," he said, and hurried out of the dressing room.

Ginny had maneuvered the crying Voldemort so that she could face Harry, and with one hand made a series of cryptic signs. Nodding, Harry pointed his wand at the now open door, and wordlessly cast a summoning charm.

The Dark Lord had managed to stop crying, now, and sagged back onto his chair. "I... I want my Pookie," he sniffed.

The summoning charm complete, Harry stepped forward, and handed Voldemort a big stuffed rabbit. "There ya go, Tom. Do you want Dobby to bring you a hot cocoa?" All Voldemort could do was nod. "Dobby!" called out the Boy Who Lived.

POP! "Whatcha need, daddy-o?" asked the diminutive House Elf, taking a drag off his Lucky Strike and adjusting his leather jacket.

"Seems Tom's depressed again," said Ginny. "Can you be a dear and bring him a cup of hot cocoa, with those muggle marshmallows?"

Dobby winked at her. "Sure thing, sugar jets," he smirked, and snapped his fingers, vanishing.

Ron shook his head. "Harry, are you sure it was a good idea to let him watch that James Dean Marathon, then give him that Happy Days collected DVD set for Christmas?"

Harry nodded. "Absolutely. He's much better now than during his 'World War Two' phase."

Two pops announced the arrival of not only Dobby, but Kreacher as well. Dobby was holding a tray with four hot cocoas on it, while Kreacher was carrying a small tray of cookies. "Here ya go, Mister V!" chirped Dobby, handing the Dark Lord his favorite pink flowered mug.

"sniff... sniff... Than you."

Kreacher, once he had placed the tray of cookies near Voldemort, looked up at Harry. "I say, you are looking quite delighted this morning, young Harry."

"Thank you, sir," replied the wizard. "I... I'm sorry I kicked you so hard during the shoot yesterday. I misjudged the distance between us."

"Think nothing of it," handwaved Kreacher. "Just another sacrifice for the Art."

A pimpled face poked his head in. "Five minutes 'till the shoot, Mr and Mrs Potter."

"Thank you, Stan," said Harry. "Kreacher, Ron, Dobby, can you stay here with Voldemort? I don't think he wants to be alone right now."

"But Harry, 'Mione wants to... err... practice for that fic by, err, well, you know the one," protested Ron.

Kreacher once again simply waved his hand. "Do not worry about Thomas," he said. "Dobby and I can help him through his latest crisis."

"Thank you, sir," said Ron. "Well, come on, you guys need to be on set like now."

As they left the room, Harry glanced back at the sniffling Voldemort, and three words passed through his mind.

"Sodding drama queen..."

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END

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A/N: Sorry... it was a horriblle mental image I couldn't get out of my head... 


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